Forever is the Longest Time
by TheZoneSystems
Summary: What they have is that sweet bond many would envy, but beneath the surface; darkness lay staining their acceptance - not for one another, but for themselves. Five-shot, slash, twincest. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first fanfiction, ever. And I am sorry if I'm not that good at writing. And warning, there's slash, twincest, angst and probably something else people can hate in the upcoming chapters.  
I'm sorry for the last part of George's POV. It's kind of short. But I hope you will enjoy!**

**~George~**

A shiver, as the storm outside terrorized harder, went through his body and The Burrow seemed to almost give in for the wind. This summer had just started, already giving them nothing but housekeeping to do. Rain, thunder and hard wind were making everyone under the Weasley's roof go crazy and as usual; it had woken up one of the twins.

George stroke his hair back when it fell down into his eyes, it was slightly too long for him but too short to make his mother go mad, as a thunder broke lose from the sky and he moved to his side to watch Fred. George's lookalike was breathing slow and seemed peaceful with this weather as it never caused him sleeping problems or boredom.

Fred always seemed happy with the storms, running outside and seemed to enjoy the fact that he returned soaking wet. And he always asked his family why they never took the opportunity to enjoy it. _Stupid fuck._

George grinned at his thoughts and was now whispering the name of his almost identical brother louder and louder after each time, wanting the teen in the other bed to react. Several minutes past but there was no sign of Fred waking up.

"Your favorite weather... And you are not even pretending to join my thoughts..." George waited, he needed the reaction that he was longing, and his voice said the sentence a bit louder than the whispers. No response.

_Damn you_, he thought, turning to his left to try to go back to sleep, but being held awake thanks to the sky that revealed loud banging. The redheaded boy sat up in his bed, rubbing his temples to avoid the big headache that was coming up, and then he swung his legs over the edge and felt the cold floor touching his bare feet.

He forgot the urge to sleep some more hours; he was just hoping to find anything that he could entertain himself with until Fred actually got back to life. George tried to think of the dream he had, once he was asleep, but there was no sign of anything. His head felt empty and he didn't even care about the cold floor anymore. Why couldn't he just have the ability to remember whatever he was dreaming, was his dreams that unimportant to him?

He let out a sigh, he was disappointed, the question had no answer and he stood up and leered at Fred. Still there was no sign of the brother's awakening, but he seemed to be in a pleasurable part of the dream-zone. Fred let out a quiet moan and George chuckled little, wondering what his brother really was going through in his imagination.

After staring for two minutes at his brother, George gave up and let out a loud sigh; he turned his back against Fred's sleeping guise and opened their door. Halfway out of the room he met his real mirror image and he saw how the fire red hair really looked like fire this morning as it was pointing into every direction in a dramatic way. Maybe his dream hadn't been that bad.

While he looked at himself in disgust, noticing freckles in places where they just didn't look normal, discovered unpleasant scars on his jaw line and other places around his throat; he heard a low mumble from Fred that almost sounded like that moan again. George turned while he chuckled and faced his groggy twin.

Fred shuddered as it seemed, on the edge of shaking and his cheeks were pink-colored. George chuckled a second time and closed the door behind him as he walked into the room again, finding Fred looking like he was caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Only Merlin knows what his dream was about.

**~Fred~**

He only pretended not to notice George in his desperate attempt to get his attention, the reason to this behavior wasn't about him wanting to avoid his twin; but his gut said that his lower regions rising because of his dream wasn't the sight of him that George would want to see.

Fred barely remembered the unbelievable treatment that he got in his sleep, he thought for it and his head reminded him that this person had red hair that almost reached the shoulders. Slightly and smooth he stroke himself on the outside of his pajamas-fabric, a warm feeling caught him up and he shivered._ Now I have to do my own laundry again._

To his misfortune; George seemed to have noticed that he was awake and as he closed his eyes in regret he heard the door shutting again; hoping for a while that his brother went out, but knew by the creaking on the floor that he was wrong. _Please, make him not know what I just did._

But it appeared that there was no one to answer his prayer, George was giving him a wink, grinning, "You seemed to have had a great dream there, brother," he chuckled, giving Fred a pat on the stomach.

Fred let out a sigh and murmured that George could feel free to leave Fred and his dreams alone and just ignore him for some minutes. But Fred never had the time to cover himself up; he noticed the thunder and got to his feet, grabbing George by his wrist and rushed outside, making amounts of sounds that obviously didn't wake anyone up.

His fingers were holding on George with great strength that made the skin under the fingernails buckle a bit, George cursed when the door opened and Fred dragged him outside.

"Why the hell are you taking me here? It's bloody cold, mate!"

Fred winched by the sound of George's voice, it was familiar and the red, striped, wet hair, clinched fists and those lips made Fred's mind race. He was perfect; he was the perfect match, that greenish in his bright-brown eyes and the freckles on his neck. Everything matched perfectly.

He had long known that George was the one in his dreams, but he had turned a blind eye against it, he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to admit it, he never would.

Now he couldn't do anything else but to stare at George, realizing where that bubbly feeling came from. He always caught himself feeling funny around his brother, wanting to be as near as possible and this dream haunting him like madness, always giving him a problem to take care of in the morning, didn't make anything easier for him.

George seemed furious but a smirk caught his mouth and his lips drove Fred's thoughts in a direction that made his blood pumping around in his body with such force he believed that his heart was going to jump out of his aching chest. George's lips were making Fred's mind spin and the memory of the dream made his stomach twitch and he suddenly felt an incredible warmth catch his whole body, fortunately for him; there were a thunder, louder than the earlier ones, that drove his attention back to the storm.

**~George~**

The rain was really cold and both of them got soaked to the skin in just a couple of minutes, George instinctively clinched his fists and wondered out loud why he was there. He looked at his brother and noticed massive changing in his face, his expressions went from relief to worry to a dreamy look that George didn't recognize.

Fred looked at him and gave him a burning look of excitement, that he only knew form his own face, but the expression seemed to disappear as the heaven let out the biggest thunder of them all.

George's brother was lightening up and a grin, that lit up his whole surrounding, danced into his mouth. Fred always seemed to be the one that enjoyed things in a better and happier way that made George jealous, he wanted to be the better twin once. Just once.

Fred once again grabbed George's wrist, making something that felt like a lightning bolt go through his body, George shivered; he suddenly imagined his brother with his hands grabbing something else.

_Focus_, he thought while he got dragged down the yard, out of the garden and towards a big field that they always played on when they were younger.

There were so many memories with this that bubbled up in George, he fought them and threw them away in a deep hole in his brain. A smile crept its way into his face and he realized that Fred was still gripping his wrist, but the strength was eased. The hand of the older brother was slowly sliding down George's.  
Fred snapped back his fist with such speed that George suddenly felt abandoned, his skin was left behind and he felt incredibly cold all of a sudden. He almost felt like he was forgotten, his hand still waiting for the touch that never came.  
_Focus, I said focus.._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. But I wanted to update soon, I wanted to give you something to read. It isn't good, but I'm nod considering it to be bad either... Let me know what you think, eh? Enjoy!**

**~Fred~**

The rain was pouring down on his body, its relentless mission to soak him beneath the clothes and he couldn't repress the grin that crept into his face; it was cold, unforgiving and ruthless. Fred slowly brought his hand upon his head, the hard ignorance left from almost touching George's hand silencing both themselves and their thoughts.

Fred had been seeking disgust in his brother's face after the incident with their hands, but there were nothing except a pleading look he hadn't seen in two years, George's eyes had seemed to be puffy, his cheeks a slight shade of pink and his whole body language had shown some sort of longing.  
Fred simply brushed it away; not able to admit to himself what he really thought, dreamed or felt. His stomach twisted and he could barely breathe; it wasn't because of the lack of food, neither because of the rain, he couldn't identify it. He had no logical explanation about his body's way to tremble while he was standing under the clouds, wishing his shirt wasn't that slinky; not showing his whole torso.

He never could figure out why he didn't like George to see his bare skin, he were never that comfortable with being completely naked in front of others and excluding showers, his birth and some moments when he was little; he never left his clothing out of sight. Maybe it was because the two of them had been stealing people's clothes, or he might be inconvenient about himself. Idiot, he thought and grinned at the sky.

_Goddess, this is wonderful._

He seemed to have lost the lack of thoughts and leered at George. Still the petition took place in his face, but it were slightly fading and George grinned himself, lifting his clenched fists to the sky and let out a howl. They laughed, glancing at one another, feeling the tense air heating up a bit and they were able to breathe normally again, though there were some unidentifiable glares that they shot back and forth.

_If I only knew your thoughts right now_, Fred was not able to decipher his own thoughts as he moved closer to his twin, gaining the same reaction from George. They were close in every way; never kept secrets, always knew how to express their feelings. They were twins goddamn it, they did things twins did, they were like twins were. Only a little more wicked. Fred felt outright confused; he experienced himself and George as more than twins, more than brothers.

They were close now, standing right next to each other, felt the other ones warmth, they were still grinning, faces turned up towards the sky. Heavy drops falling on their visages, making them winch a bit every time. Fred fought the urge to pull his brother into his embrace, fought the thoughts and the feelings. He cursed in his head.

_No, will not admit it, never, not ever, don't want to, but I can't stop it. Damn it._

**~George~**

He kept repeating the mantra, tried to stay focused on the storm, tried not to shiver and tried with his full strength to get rid of his facial expression. But he seemed to have lost the ability to control himself, he felt his fists rise and right out of nothing his throat let out a loud howl of despair. George let out a chuckle of concern, while Fred's laugh smoothed out the tense air enough to breathe again. George was oblivious with the glares he got, and that he returned them with full force.

_I'm glad you can't read my mind_, he thought when his imagination teased him with another picture of Fred's body under his own, both stripped naked and kisses planted all over them. He suddenly felt his body move closer to Fred, the shudders that went through his body obvious in every way, but he couldn't stop his movement. He needed to be closer, he needed the warmth. Now.

His mind spun about how he had kept secrets from the very best person in his life, even though they looked alike on the surface; they were different in so many mental levels. George considered himself as the one looking at things judgmental, trying to analyze the risks about pranks. He was only the one following Fred, the less attractive one with the flaws built up while his brother was the confident and brave one, the person who would risk things just to make himself and his loved ones laugh.

George wanted to be the other twin for one day, to walk in his brother's emotions and to be able to think in other directions than he was doing right now. He wanted to be cocky and daring, yet he was the one concerning about their future, their lives and their health. Even though he wanted to be the one everyone was longing for, he was the one longing for touch he never could have, he always wanted things that were out of reach.

And even though they were physically close right then, he'd bet Fred's thoughts weren't even close to his. He knew they weren't and he was blissful to have his thoughts to himself.

_So I can suppress them once again, even though I don't want to._

He wanted to caress Fred's skin, wanted to embrace every sinful feeling his body once had recovered from, but he could not pull himself to admit his lust, eagerness or his tantalizing thoughts.

George felt the drops of rain hit his grinning face with ruthless force, but his smile didn't seem to fade. The air wasn't tensed anymore, their bodies close enough for them to feel the other ones warmth, he could see the glances he got from his brother and his stomach twisted as Fred's expression changed from confused to longing.  
_I could stay here for eternity, _and his smile grew, if possible, larger than before.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: First of all; I'm truly sorry for not updating this. I feel terrible.**  
**Second; Uh, I don't know what I think of this chapter. I find myself unable to like it, yet unable to think anything bad of it. It isn't that bad really. I'm just worried.**  
**Third; THANK YOU for putting this on your favorites and alerts and so on. And I would like to thank the two people that reviewed. Thank you, very much. I love feedback. I love to know if I'm doing anything in the right way.**  
**And now. On with the story!**

**~Fred~**

During three days after their night, so close the warmth could be felt from the other, outside in the storm, he kept telling himself that it wasn't anything. That nothing was happening, not with him, not with George, not with anything. He told himself everything was completely normal, almost abnormally normal. For these three days he told himself that the strange feeling in his stomach was nothing but boredom, he ignored the hissing from his head that told him it was butterflies.

For seventy-two hours he kept telling his head, trying to convince it, that the excitement he felt whenever he was alone with his twin was only because he was longing after mischief and not after his brother's touch.

No, Fred Weasley was completely normal. Of course.

But these days, hours, seconds, just wasn't enough to convince himself, he couldn't try harder. And if he tried, he thought his chest would explode. And more the often he told himself that it wasn't George in his dreams, the more evidence against his were planted in the dreams.

He was going mad, he was bloody insane. The more he tried to convince himself – and whoever that could read his thoughts – that he was normal, the more he came to think of all the time they weren't normal, all those times they were unique, the times they were slightly abnormal. They were almost long from sanity, they'd seemed blessed being the least normal students at Hogwarts, not getting in trouble for breaking rules. Everyone expected them to have a greater bond.

He kept pondering over this, considering it all as something they could do, he needed to get these things out, he needed someone in the world to know. He needed George to know what he was doing to him. They were alike in so many ways that Fred wouldn't be surprised if George already knew. They used to have the same expressions; always grinning, mischievous, with the same shining excitement in their eyes. Yet, this time, they shot pleading glances to one another, had the same longing in their body languages.

They were the same as always, yet entirely new.

Fred opened his eyes and surveyed his brother's sleeping guise, he could not imagine how they both would react when the truth finally got out. Even though he was not willing to accept it, to admit it, he knew that it would not do anything better to hide it from himself. He forgot all the convincing about how normal he was and thought of what it could mean to feel this way.

He knew what to call it all, he knew that his thoughts and those unfamiliar feelings could only be called, in a twisted sort of way, love. It's normal to love your brother, even more normal to love your twin, but it was not normal to love anyone in your family in this way. It was so strong, it was aching, twisting and disturbing.

He was disgusted with himself, but he could not ignore or resist the smile that always crept into his mouth when George gave him a second glance, he did not know how to stop the butterflies from springing free every other second. He could not help the hatred that filled his chest when he thought of how little the world would understand. It was love, what was wrong with love, why did people think that there was something wrong with different types of love?

_Damn world._

His eyes followed George's half exposed torso down to where the quilt hid the toned legs, where Fred knew his brother's stomach was groaning. The night had been long, George had been asleep the whole time and Fred knew his brother's stomach all too well.

_I need food soon too_, he thought and gave his brother's guise a halfhearted smile. There were so many things they knew about one another, there were so many things people didn't know about them. Not even their mother could tell them apart. Sometimes not even Lee was able to tell them apart. None, not a soul knew the depth of their thoughts.

No one knew them enough to be called friend. Lee was the only exception, he tried his damned best to get to know them. But it wasn't an easy task and both Fred and George knew it wasn't going to happen all too fast. But Lee would do it, he would succeed.

Fred tore his eyes away from his brother, took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly to lock his eyes at the morning sky. The clouds that had been hanging low over their heads, giving them hell this first week, started to split up. He squinted, holding up his weight with his elbow, and tried to tell what time it could be.

He failed miserably, but he knew it wasn't long until he needed to go up. If the weather was good he knew their mother would be putting them in the garden to degnome it. He'd been secretly hoping that the summer could stay rainy. That he could have his peace for a longer period. He didn't want the heat to hit Britain just yet. He wanted another week.

Suddenly he felt desperate for sleep, he'd been so lost in his thoughts this evening he forgot to fall asleep, forgot to let his dreams wrap their warmth around his chest and give him the solution he longed, needed and wanted. Even though the feelings his heart accompanied in his chest were unfamiliar he had never felt like this before.

He knew to call it love because that was the only word that fit the description. He had thought he felt it for Angelina, but thought otherwise now. He knew he had overrated love before, that he thought that every feeling in your heart was it. He thought love was an illusion. And maybe it was, maybe the illusion was stinging him, intoxicated him. Maybe the illusion was something ruthless that would kill him eventually.

Or maybe this was how love really felt like. He knew he couldn't convince himself this was a phase, that this only was something that would be away in a short period of time, for he came to realize that he had been feeling like this all the time. Yet it had been nicer to him, it wasn't aching that much before. He wanted to do something about it, he was sure his heart would break otherwise, that it would cut itself out of his chest and abandon him.

Their love had always been strange, always greater and passionate than others, their bond was even deeper than other twin's. They were always these abnormal idiots that never seemed to separate. They knew what people thought of them, they knew people came to think they were both heartless, that they never had eyes for people, never had a feeling.

_What a bunch of idiots_, Fred grinned into his pillow and rested his head on it again. "If I was separated from you, George, I'd die. And if I didn't die at that precise moment, I'd kill myself."

He closed his eyes again, it hurt when his lids covered the whole orbs. He'd been out of moisture this night, all too into his thoughts to care about his eyes. They weren't even that important to him.

As long he had George by his side, he'd put everything else aside. Nothing meant as much as George did to him. And no one could tell Fred otherwise, for nobody knew his secret.

Not even George had a clue about it, but it wouldn't stay that long, Fred was determined to tell, to express himself. Either with words or with his hands. He just didn't know how to find the courage, how to tell.

But he knew he would tell, he knew he would be nervous. But he wanted it to be out, even though he would risk his own life. "If you leave me Georgie," his throat got thick and he swallowed to continue, "I'll never be able to live with myself."

He didn't expect any answer and threw all thoughts aside when sleep clouded his head and made his whole being feel heavy. He was incredibly tired, exhausted to be honest. And all he wanted to do was to start over again, to be able to do something about it.

_Might as well get some sleep_, he thought and shifted slightly to pull the covers tightly around his aching body.

**~George~**

It was strange how much they knew about each other, that they were able to just lock their eyes and both of them suddenly knew what the other one was thinking. And it was strange how much they tried to be exactly like that in this twisted kind of situation, but they always kept failing. It was fun to feel this things again, to have that aching pain in the chest that spread through his whole body.

He thought it was hilarious that he never were able to suppress the sensations, that it always had been there, even though he wasn't able to feel it like this.

He knew all too well what was up with him, and he thought Fred knew to. Secretly George wished nothing was going to change between them, but he knew it would. He couldn't keep his twin oblivious a second time, he knew he couldn't do this all over again. Either he prepared himself to live with this, or he'd tell his brother eventually and watch the retorting back. Watch the love of his life leave him behind.

_And if you do leave me, Freddie, I will not be able to live._

But George knew he would not be able to live with the glances that tells nothing more than the love for a brother, he knew he would slowly die inside-out all those times they were close, but not close enough. He wished this could stop, abruptly. He would rather live with his brother, never being able to feel love again, than have to be in love with his brother and the latter leaving him heartbroken.

And that would happen eventually, whether he likes it or not his heart would explode due to this aching. His chest would slowly crackle and his blood was to stain his shirt. But Fred would not even care, he'd be disgusted.

He wouldn't want anything to do with George.

And George just knew his thoughts wasn't the truth, but he couldn't keep them away.

The night is almost over and he'd been awake all these hours, watching Fred and listening to his confusing murmurs, not really hearing what he says but knows the depth of his brother's thoughts had been released. He knows Fred is troubled, that something is bothering him.

But George does not dare to think of it, he's all too afraid of making his loved one suspicious if he asks about it. Yet there were so many things he wanted to do, say, feel, but he was a true coward. He was afraid of Fred, he was terrified and couldn't help it.

What is one supposed to do if the greatest love of all times scares the crap out of you, what if hell couldn't spare the thoughts a place and he'd been infected with them. And once again; why couldn't this stop? And Merlin, how would the world react when the word finally got out?

What would happen then, when his world collapsed around him, would he die or would his heart stay unbreakable just like last time? Would he be glad to get rid of the feelings the secret came with or would it kill him to know that he wasn't allowed in anyone's life anymore?

_All these questions and I'm none the wiser, all these goddamned feelings that cause me trouble._

He defined them as feelings this time, not able to suppress them once again and certainly not able to know why they would have come back, hitting him in the face just to travel to his heart once more.

He knew he was damned to be this way, sure of the thought that someone had hit him with a curse but his head slowly took that away from him. He couldn't allow himself that this amazing feeling was something made up by some sadistic git, because even though it was slowly killing him; he knew he would feel lost without it. It had been there all the time, but he had only realized this now.

He had even tried to get it out of his chest, brain and veins; but it burned him wild, gave him some sort of willing to live. It gave him a rush, made his face flush slightly in the dark. He knew no one could see it, but he tried his damned best to cover it up. To make everything go back to normal.

Once again he failed, but he failed harder this time. It was stronger now, burning holes in his body and began slipping out, making disturbing noises as it stained his hands. He knew it was all in his head, and he shook it slightly, trying in vain to get it out again and again and once more. But the holes got bigger with every try and the feelings grew in strength by each second.

He was bloody infected with it, bloody oblivious to how much it had been affecting him these past years, these two years wasted on nothing to ignore the only thing that he knew about. The only fact he was highly sure about buried in the depth of his thoughts, the depth of the other feelings. Like the feeling of hatred towards a certain Angelina for sitting all too close to Fred. The feeling of utter disgust when seeing anyone look at him twice.

Goddamn, he'd been considering himself unavailable for far too long. He needed something that could bring him back to earth, he wanted someone to smack him in the backside of his head and tell him he was dreaming again, someone to tell him that he needed to focus. What the hell was he doing in this dream anyways? It wasn't like he could change it to his benefit or something.

It was more like a nightmare, everything was going in the wrong direction and the paths in the dream told him nothing but either try to stop this and be lost in himself, or to tell and be left alone and yet have to cover himself up in his own mind.

There wasn't any happy ending about this. There wasn't supposed to be any bliss in his future, he was supposed to be alone with this dream of his, knowing that there were a way out of this. A way out that could lighten the weight on his shoulders and take away that bloody burning in his chest, but there were risks with everything.

He wanted to long for the touch, yet he wanted it to come to him, he wanted to trace the lips with his fingers and be able to connect his to them in a heated kiss. He wanted to be able to whisper words of love and promises of forever in the ear of his loved one. He goddamn wanted to know if they really were that identical that people thought they were.

He wanted to touch every freckle, wanted to know every inch of Fred's body, wanted his brother to take away his worries. Like the worries his chest bore right now.

_I want you._

He knew they had a bond that no one could compete with, that they were expected to be close, closer that anyone, and that if someone ever wanted to separate them they wouldn't be able to, the idiot that thought it would work was soon to wish they were never born.

One could say this was expected from them and George grinned to himself before he surveyed the body in the other bed.

"If they think they can take you away from me, they'd be rivaling Ron's stupidity," he chuckled quietly to himself, knowing it would sound like a groan to his brother if he was still awake, but for the even breathing from across the room George could tell his loved one was sound asleep.

"You would surely not even believe me if I told you," he whispered and did not even long for a reaction; hoping the guise of his twin would stay beneath the quilt and not move an inch. He wished the breathing wouldn't change in a long time, that everything could stay like this. The few blissful moments he had was enough for him to live with. And maybe, just maybe, he could be happy later in his life.

Maybe he could find a wife to love; have kids to love, small toddlers running around, laughing and causing his world to spin if they ever got hurt. Maybe someone could make him feel this way again, and maybe it would be normal then and not anything this screwed up and it wouldn't fill him with hatred towards himself.

He thought that maybe he might be able to find love again, and that love that time wasn't anything as forbidden as this. Maybe his feeling only was something imagined, that they really weren't anything beyond the love for a brother, a twin, his everything. Or maybe he was in denial once again.

"Nah, it depends brother," George breathed in sharply, "what are you suggesting?"

_Bloody hell._

**(Just a tiny note; I think I'll add four more chapters to this and then I'm done. I think so. I don't know. Well... Bye.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: First of all; I'd like to APOLOGIZE. I'm the worst updater. Guilty as charged. I am the worst updater ever. And I don't even know what to say. I have no excuses. I guess I just... Lost it. **  
**Second; My grammar isn't the best. But the grammar in the third chapter isn't even me. Hell, I read it over today and was outright furious with myself. I'd like to apologize for that too.**  
**Third; I told you something would happen in this chapter. And something happens alright. But I'm mean and I'm leaving you with a cliffhanger. Again.**  
**Last thing I want to apologize for; The cliffhanger in the last chapter. I don't know why you were all that understanding and went all "I love your story" (Okay I had like... four reviews. But that's not the point) when you should've gone mental and angry and started yelling at me (capital letters you know...) for leaving you with that. And I didn't even realize how much of a cliffhanger it was until about a week after I updated it.**  
**Lord, I suck.**  
**Well, here's the fourth chapter. I'd love any feedback I could get.**  
**On with it then.**

* * *

**~Fred~**

The light in their room was far too dim for him to see his brother's facial expression, this caused the situation to stay normal in his opinion as he still was oblivious to the trouble etching the beautiful features across the room, urging his mouth to shape a sheepish grin when he finally recognized the silence as tensed. He couldn't say he hadn't expected this, though.

The remorse for the words he'd spoken tugged at his chest whilst his confusion slowly made appearance.

Surely; he didn't know for sure what he'd been interrupting, he didn't know what the rambling words meant. The remorse made him less oblivious, this was far more serious than he'd presaged, but the aching in his chest wouldn't give in. It was too late to take it back, to contend he didn't want to know the answer. He couldn't lie to himself anymore, though. And neither to George, they were both aching to ease the tension between them, but neither had had the courage to speak up yet. And Fred had changed this behavior, only to receive more tension. But curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?

His lids fluttered shut for a brief moment before he could coerce them to open, the bleak light combined with this silence made his head heavy with the promises of serenity and embraces of warmth that sleep could bring him. He knew he wouldn't want to let the dreams take their hold on him just yet, he was determined and reluctant on the same time. He refused to miss the words, the syllables, which could be a confessing, which could lighten this burden he was laboured to bear.

The silence broke through the barrier and became a sweltering stillness; sending shivers through his whole body with its hissing whispers brushing his skin and hoarse cusses that menaced to drive him mad, leaving him writhing on the floor and convulsing with deep, occult guilt that gave him no opinion but to swallow his pride and weep; creep towards the other end of the room to gain the support he needed.

But the stillness was shattered by a shaky breath from George who gave away a slight grin in the meantime, but Fred wasn't oblivious this time; it was twitching in the corners of George's mouth and the expression didn't reach his eyes. Both exhaled slowly and locked their gazes, realizing the dawn had crept closer and encircling them in a comfortable understanding. They didn't have to rely on words, didn't need to depend on verbal conversations. Both knew this was tensed.

They both lied there, mirrored the expression from across the room, trying to avoid the choking matter they both wanted to tell, but neither seemed to have the courage to speak aloud. Neither was keen to wait for the words, but they were too scared to tell the thought, to speak the tensed air away. Fred was however convinced, the stiffening in George's body would only deepen if he heard the train of thoughts, feelings, that occupied his brother. He knew his words weren't good to say, he knew that he would be rejected. He just knew it.

He took a sharp breath, the sinful thoughts ghosted his mind; bringing pictures of George including a shower before his inner eye. He tried in vain to block it out, to cover up his surprised, confused and excited face. He tried to glance at George with an expression that said everything was okay, nothing was wrong, but his panicked look collided with the mirrored one across the room. Merlin, he was screwed.

They both held their damned breaths another time, still confused and the panic was slowly exchanged into terror, he locked eyes with George for a brief moment before surveying the tremblings that rushed through the body in the other bed; his own body screaming to give comfort, to whisper promising words of love and forever in the ear of his loved one.

_I love you_, he thought, _I love you so bad._

He looked exhausted, he knew it, he could bet all his galleons on it, if he had any, he looked just like George did. With dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. But his veins were burning, every limb were aching to feel George's. He needed comfort himself, he needed warmth that even sleep couldn't give him. He needed genuine smiles that never faded away.

And his brother seemed to be longing for the same thing. But Fred couldn't have that kind of affection towards his brother, could he? George was smart, he was always thinking. Not too much, of course, but he was always pondering over consequences. Fred admired this ability, he wanted it too, he wanted to think reasonable without trying. But he wasn't capable to think in those ways, he was irresponsible and was never really conservative.

If he even told George anything, he knew his brother would be pondering and pacing about the room, trying to convince his own brain to not speak consequences that could occur. Fred would be left there, rocking back and forth, enfolding himself in his own mind and live through his dreams. He couldn't think of how life would be without his other half, without the only love he knew existed. He didn't even dare to think of how he was supposed to go through even a night without George. If he was absent, would Fred really be able to fall asleep, or would he lie there, shuddering from the cold that wrapped his abdomen every time George wasn't within his sight?

"I'm bloody mental," his voice rang, bumped into the walls and hit the other one's ears. His murmuring wasn't expected, not even Fred knew he was going to say them, he didn't know his mouth was capable to do things without his brain's permission. He scolded himself inwardly, hoping George had fallen back to sleep. But he knew it was something absurd to be wishing for, he had his damned gaze locked, he was looking into the depths known as his brother's eyes.

Fred felt himself tremble in spite of the warm sun shielding them, warming their bodies, through the window. He felt cold all of a sudden. The stillness returned with its hissing, hoarse whispering, coercing the knowledge of his inappropriate words going back to his chest and tugging at his heart, telling him his lips should be sewn together. He felt weary, sleep wasn't appealing, it didn't promise warmth and not even serenity anymore.

The only thing he wanted in that cold, silent, moment was to stumble over to George and cling to him, whisper the truth that was slowly choking them both, and lightly brush odd patterns across his skin. But he seemed to be at loss of all his courage when the horror in his brother's eyes revealed itself, and when the remorse tugged at his chest harder he wanted nothing but to sink through the bed and die, wanted to forget and be forgiven for the sin he was thinking of.

And yet he was still there, locking eyes with the horror he mirrored and felt the need for remission drop in his stomach and his heart leap into his throat, beating uncontrollably. A genuine smile crept into George's features, which scared the horror and the terrible tugging away from him, reminding him of all the moments he felt good. All the times the feelings were simply pleasant and he felt full of bliss. He knew he wouldn't trade them away for anything. If he was damned to feel this way, he could bloody make it worth it.

Even if it meant to rock back and forth, with the remorse tugging his heart apart and with the obvious horror etching his visage. He was going to act, he was bloody going to tell him, either with words or with his hands. He was going to make sure George knew why everything was the way it had ended up, make sure George felt his heart beating so uncontrollably it did, to know why he reacted the way he did.

The same smile crept its way upon his lips, reached his eyes and he exhaled his breath and took a new, fresh and determined one. It was now or never, a shot he was supposed to take. He needed to let go of all the negative feelings and act like ha always did. He needed to only act on feelings, not to ponder over possibilities or consequences. It was a wrong thing to think, but it was George's job to look after him, to ponder over those things Fred wasn't capable to think of.

He pushed the few rational thoughts aside when his feelings sprang loose, giving him support to sit up in the bed and connect his feet to the floor. He was about to leap up and giving himself away to his brother when a chuckle rang loud in the room. The sudden outburst of something positive startled him before one of his infamous grins came plastered over his mouth.

The dawn was over and the morning stood proud in his narrowed eyes, his whole being was burning as he scrambled up to strode off to George, to show both his brother and himself what he really felt. Yet he was abruptly interrupted when something echoed about the room and into his ears, he was in the middle of a step when his brain responded with screaming agony and the tugging came back as the words settled and positioned themselves over him.

He wasn't even sure he imagined them or if they were real. He didn't know what else to do than to continue his steps towards the other bed that seemed so much warmer than his. But his actions were suddenly ripped out of his limbs as the same words filled the room once again.

"Don't," followed by a long silence while the quivering pleading echoed about the room, "please, just stay."

**~George~**

To be smothered by one's own feelings tend to tear you apart. George Weasley knew exactly how this felt, how to act. Yet, his muscles seemed to ignore the screaming demands inside his head, his joints seemed to have grown into each other. Everything including his body was rejecting his internal pleas, shouts and cries. Nothing comprehended to his brain's wishes.

Everything acted on its own accord.

Including his damned mouth, his eyes and his heart.

As he said words he couldn't regret his eyes were stinging and his heart started thumping violently, trying to beat out of his chest. He tried to blink the tears away, but he couldn't pretend he didn't notice his blurred sight, he tried to calm his bloody heart, but it pounded harder and faster with each second. He was damned, he was bloody damned and Fred appeared hurt at first, but anger sipped through his façade and stained his features.

George had no idea how to act, but if he was damned; he could just make it damn worth it. Make it worth the pain and the tremblings. To tell was his only option.

"To answer your question," the tremblings increased, got heavier, "I must beg you to sit down."

Fred moved to sit at the side of George's bed and panic infected the latter's expression carefully. Quickly, George sat up and inched away from his brother which caused Fred to stop his tracks dead and his eyes to flash confusion through the thick cloud that was anger.

"You wouldn't want to be near me," George assured him, "I'm thinking about your best."

A snort was heard from Fred but he moved back to his own covers and pulled them over his exposed torso. The whole movement caught George's attention and it took thousands of thousands convincing words inside his head for him to find the willpower to look away. Merlin, he couldn't control himself. He had his shot and he was bloody ruining everything, ruining this opportunity to let the truth echo about them, above their heads. He could do this, he was just a coward.

He pushed himself against the wall, taking a fistful of quilt and wiping away the traces of vulnerability in the same motion. Yet Fred seemed to have noticed and he could always interpret the signs. So he did, Merlin, he did, and to George's biggest confusion and horror, Fred rose again and strode over once more. This time, George couldn't find it in him to speak, to plead or to beg his brother to stay away. This was about to end far worse than he'd presaged.

Suddenly both of them were seated in the same bed, breathing heavy. The only significant difference was made by George's tremblings and stammering. He was determined to speak, yet his tongue seemed too sticky and it glued itself to the top of his mouth. He was losing it, he was not able to keep his cool, his unshed tears and muffled sobs threatened to break the barrier he tried his best to keep steady.

He failed, of course he failed. His sob sounded dry when it echoed above their heads, rasping sounds escaped his throat and he clenched his teeth together to stop a loud cry from escaping him. Bloody hell, he wasn't a coward. He was a wussy. A god damned, bloody wussy. His tears escaped his eyes and stained his cheeks, causing his eyes to convulsively shut, his heart to leap its way to his throat and accompany the big lump and the sobs.

His hands turned into fists and he curled himself up, trying in vain to make himself as small as possible. He trembled too hard and shuddered all too much, every part of his body unaware of Fred's movements until the quilt around George's body loosened up and warmth enveloped his mind, gave his body comfort. He was surrounded by Fred, tears, sobs and tremblings suddenly forgotten when two strong arms embraced him and crushed him onto a freckled chest.

He was in heaven, Goddess, he was in bloody heaven. But life was never good enough, was it? He felt himself wanting more out of this touch, observe every inch of the body beside him. But strength had left him utterly defenseless and he found the innocent touch to be far too sensual for his liking, the soothing patterns Fred's hands made across George's back did not only excite him but it electrified his senses and left his breath to hitch in his throat.

He was being terrorized, god dammit. Every part of him was aching and longing after something more but his tongue still seemed numb in his mouth. Not a word could escape him, his vocal cords seemed to only be able to compose whimpers and dry, muffled sobs. George didn't know how to act anymore, his body was slowly tensing up completely as his situation finally struck him and took hold in his brain. He was bloody curled up in his brother's embrace.

_Bloody hell_, the rational part of his mind hissed, _get yourself together._

To squirm away from Fred and save some dignity was harder than he originally thought, he swallowed thickly and tried to place his hands on the other wizard's shoulder, but his brother was determined to not let him go. He was tightening his hold further and whispered soothing words into thin air.

_Merlin, help me._

"Georgie," Fred whispered eventually, "Georgie, I need to tell you something."

He swallowed the lump next to the strangled sob in his throat, he tried to stop his body from reacting the way it was about to, he felt self-conscious and exposed. Bloody hell, he was weeping his eyes out and his brother was there to console him, and he only felt the urge to break contact, to run away and never come back? He truly was a wussy.

"Freddie," he croaked himself. Oh, he wanted so much more than to whimper hoarsely. He wanted to shudder from pleasure, not to tremble from sobs and uneasy cries. He'd rather moan his brother's name than to sniffle his nick-name. Dammit! He wanted to be something else than a coward, he wanted to do something that could change their situation. Something that would give them courage to speak the matter.

Bloody hell, he knew something bothered Fred, alright. He wanted his brother to speak of it already. Just to spit it out. To get it over with. Mostly he wanted Fred to speak of his matter first, to tell a tale of something ridiculous as to prevent George's to be snorted at, disgusted of. He wanted something to make his problem less intimidating. Bugger, he wanted something that would make him blurt his secret out. Was something like that too much to ask for?

He had it bad, dammit. He had it sodding bad. Even as he turned slightly to tell his twin about the truth of the matter, he had it even worse than before. He locked eyes with Fred. Surely both of them looked somewhat like lunatics. Nothing out of the ordinary, then. Yet, Fred's eyes held an unfathomable emotion. George could even see lust flash suddenly in those depths, making his cock twitch in response; craving attention.

George couldn't control his next actions as brutish longing and lust suddenly broke through his layer of safe thoughts, he practically lunged at Fred who gave a startled yelp and landed on his back. In George's bed. With George between his thighs. Bloody hell, George couldn't help himself as he pressed the attention-craving, more-than-awakened cock onto Fred's innermost thigh.

A delicate gasp was heard and someone – Fred, almighty, Fred – jerked his hips, gaining friction, pushing his own erection against George's. Good gracious, he was losing himself in the bliss. Bloody hell, he needed to stop panting, needed to win his rational thoughts back. The situation might have gone to something where Fred felt cornered, didn't want to let his brother down. George propped himself up with his elbows supporting his weight and locked – once, bloody, again – eyes with his brother.

He goddamn wanted to crush his lips, let them collide, brush them against Fred's. He wanted to ravish him, make him a little less innocent. He wanted to do everything, give Fred permission to do anything he desired. The desire was something, alright, since George's erection was fully pressed against Fred's and neither of them could help but to gasp, pant and rock their hips to gain the wonderful friction. Dammit, they couldn't even talk.

They needed to talk, George wanted them to talk, to rely on something verbal for once. Or they might explode. Might interpret one another incorrectly. Hell, he wanted to run, escape the sin, the taboo, he was about to perform. Still, he wanted nothing more than to_ touch_. It was as simple as that, yet, he needed to speak first.

He needed to. He couldn't help himself this time either. Even though he didn't press Fred's body onto the mattress, he withdrew himself, only to gain a whimper of loss from his brother, causing himself to feel that impossible tugging in his chest. Once on his knees between Fred's, he could see the hopeful glint in his twin's eyes, a vulgar and possibly craving wish within those depths.

George was more than willing to do whatever his brother wanted him to, but he needed to speak first. He needed his words out in the open.

"Don't you dare say anything," a hoarse and husky voice hummed, "shut up, will you?"

George allowed a wicked grin to dance on his lips when he finally leaned in to capture his brother's lips.

**~Fred~**

The kiss made their bodies meld together perfectly. The bliss was impervious, both of their minds blank in a wonderful way. Hell, everything was _sodding_ perfect. Until both of them slowly broke the kiss, taking a breath, and George attached his wonderful lips to Fred's neck and his jawline and his pulse point.

The only thing Fred knew to do was to lose himself in the moment, and he did, and unfortunately a bloody not-so-manly moan rumbled from the back of his throat. He wanted to yelp in surprise, but caught himself when he felt George's – oh hell, this was better than anything – erection press even harder against his thigh. Teeth suddenly graced his earlobe and Fred wanted nothing but to gasp, pant and crave release.

Who knew his brother was such a tease? As soon as the thought ghosted his mind, he regretted it fearfully. How did George know where to kiss, lick, nibble? Who taught him, who _bloody_ touched him without Fred's knowledge. He wanted to growl, but was interrupted in his train of thought by George's own. Apparently, he'd been absent.

"D'you understand why I wanted to talk," came the bawl, startling Fred and left him whimpering slightly when George broke contact fully. He was sure he'd ruined the only shot. His only chance to show his brother where he stood, where his feelings belonged. He wanted to make it perfect, wanted everything considering George to be flawless. Wanted the best for him, he'd do anything, consequences be _damned_.

"Stop thinking," his brother's whisper was followed by a tender caress of Fred's cheek, "and I'll shut up, alright?"

Fred wasn't able to answer, however, since George let his damned hands rest on Fred's shoulders and then explore their way downwards. Goddess, Fred shuddered involuntary and panted heavily as his brother's fingers brushed ever so slightly over his nipples. Hell, he was on the edge of writhing and he was still clad in his pajama bottoms, nothing had been done – except some mindless friction bringing hip movements – to cause this much pleasure.

He couldn't take it, a part of him wanted George beneath him, begging for release, begging for anything. Another part of him wanted to bring his brother the same pleasure he felt himself, he wanted to bring George over the edge and be there to watch, to observe the reaction. He cursed a part of himself that wanted to hear the words, the part that feared rejection and misunderstandings, he wanted to throw that part of himself out of the window. He wanted nothing of it within himself, at least not right then.

George bent his fingertips slightly, as to grace Fred's skin with his nails; leaving the smallest trails of red, tender skin on his way downwards, his exploration leading heavenly towards the panting wizard's abdomen. Eyes pleading, wishing and glowing with adoration, lips somewhat parted and every breath hitching in his throat. Brows furrowed in concentration, Fred's brother was looking at him with admiration, something akin to regret flashing in his eyes as they watered once again. The cold following the withdrawing of George's fingers was unbearable and even though Fred made it clear with a disapproving growl; his brother made no movements.

He was just sitting _there_. Between Fred's legs. Looking more shagable than _ever_, lips parted and eyes pleading for something, chest heaving impossibly, sweat adorning his whole torso. The very image made it look like they'd had sex already, like they'd shagged all night. The same very image made Fred's eyes widen, made his cock twitch almost painfully and crave even more attention than before, it made his heart beat even faster, threatening to thump right out between his ribs.

If he was damned before, he sure wasn't certain where this would lead him.

Suddenly, as if George abandoned his thoughts just to rely on feeling, the torturing fingers was back against Fred's skin. Threatening to bring him over the verge.

Even as Fred saw black spots he was unable to say anything. He knew it was too early for him to be enveloped in bliss already, a part of him knew George's fingers hadn't reached anything remotely close to sexual.

If one didn't count that breath ghosting over his left nipple.

Or that tip of a tongue massaging the bud, making Fred gasp and moan.

Or when said fingers found their way beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

Holy _Merlin._

Holy _bloody_ Merlin.

_Bloody hell._

He was sure he was going to die. The world could end in that moment and he couldn't care less, he wouldn't even bother to blink. He arched his back, groaned, grunted and bucked his hips. He was in heaven, his mind and conscience could go hang themselves. He couldn't bloody care less about what transpired outside their very room. The only thing he knew in that moment was what George's delicate fingers were grasping.

How his brother simply_ cocked_ his head to the side and _watched_.

How the fingers suddenly _stroked_ innocently.

How a certain thumb easily twirled over his crown and smeared pre-cum _harmlessly_ over the shaft.

When Fred thought he couldn't be more in heaven, he was kicked in the arse right pass the gates by George's sudden behavior. He figured his cheeks burned scarlet by now, he knew his breath was ragged and he knew he continuously groaned and moaned quite loud. But he would never even imagine it would be that hard to breathe once his brothers tongue lapped inconspicuously over one of the veins on the shaft.

He didn't even have time to feel embarrassed when he gasped loudly, took a deep breath and let out a very feminine sigh. His mind didn't have time to grasp control since George's fingers were replaced by warm lips. Lips that kissed the crown. Tongue that worshiped his whole length. Teeth that playfully nibbled at the same sensitive flesh as the lips had kissed.

The very wet mouth that suddenly surrounded him fully.

Fred arched to the point he believed his back would snap. He panted heavily whilst his brother held his hips in place, lowered his head slowly, locked eyes and _winked_.

Fred's breath didn't hitch in his throat this time, he wasn't even able to breathe, oxygen had abandoned him and he desperately gripped fistfuls of the quilt beneath him. A sound he didn't recognized rumbled up from his throat and caused George to stop. Well, not quite stop. It was more like he let Fred's cock rest in his mouth and then gave it hell of a lot of attention with his tongue.

Which caused Fred to do that sound and the following moans, gasps and pleas.

Slowly, but steady, George withdrew his mouth from Fred. The short moment that followed caused the rational thoughts to grasp his whole brain and left him staring aghast at his brother, eyes so wide they sure were about to pop out of their sockets, moral and conscience overwhelming him suddenly.

It wasn't right.

It wasn't bloody right.

It was outrageous, disgusting and bloody mental.

He was sure George knew it too.

George.

He was once again kneeling between Fred's knees, where he'd been a short moment ago. When Fred's eyes pleadingly indicated the action he'd just done.

The movements. He was too good to be true.

He just knew how to do it, didn't he?

Jealousy sprang loose in Fred's chest and stained him terribly, left him furiously withdrawing himself completely from George, getting up from the bed and quickly getting his pajama bottoms in place again. Avoiding George's eyes and the rejection flashing through them, trying in vain to find something to say.

Something that would explain their behavior.

He found none.

He knew nothing to say at this moment.

Not a single word sounded good.

"I know it's wrong," he missed his shot to say anything intelligent and was forced to listen to his brother.

_Brother_, he reminded himself, _twin, brother, sibling, relative. Forbidden fruit._

"I know it's wrong," George repeated, "but it doesn't change-"

"Forget it, will you?" Fred interrupted, sounding annoyed even to his own ears. "It doesn't work. It never will."

He threw the words directly at his brother, shoved them past his barricades and opened the horrible truth for him without reluctance. It sounded right. It would never work, would it? It would never be satisfying enough to hide it. It wouldn't do them any good, it would destroy them, devour them slowly and leave them emptied, writhing lifelessly and alone.

They'd be disowned.

Nothing good would come out of it.

_Hell, I can't stay here_, and with that thought; Fred Weasley grabbed some clothes and, for the first time in their life, left his twin behind without telling him where he'd go.

* * *

**Side note: Quick one, I promise. Where would YOU want this to head? I've already abandoned my train of thoughts... And I don't really know. **  
**Please review your answer, or just send me a message.**

**xoxo The Zone Systems**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I am incredibly grateful. I don't have words. I love you for adding this on your favourites, alerts and for the reviews I got! Unfortunately, this journey ends here.**  
**I just don't have the inspiration, nor the motivation to continue. On the other hand, I never really expected this to be multi-chaptered, I only had a vague idea in the beginning and didn't even know how to write it.**  
**I've improved my English throughout this story, and I am incredibly thankful for the feedback and the loving words that I got! Thank you so very much.**  
**This is definitely not my last story between these two, although there might just be a couple of one-shots in the near future, if anything at all.**  
**Thank you for your support, and enjoy!**

* * *

**~George~**

It wasn't fair.

George Weasley was still on his knees, on his bed and he still had soothing, reassuring and loving words on the tip of his tongue.

The one the words belonged to, the one on his knees and a slight bitter taste on his lips, slouched his shoulders and stared numbly at the wall opposite of himself, by the headboard of his bed.

The one the words were supposed to invade had left moments ago.

_Forget it._

If George hadn't spent his whole life trying to suppress everything, forget and forgive himself for the desires clinging to his body, he would gladly forget it.

He would embrace ignorance immediately if necessary, if possible.

George knew it wasn't possible. Oh, yes, it was most certainly necessary, but he wouldn't let Fred slip that easily.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

But he probably had to.

_Forget it, will you?_

No, he wouldn't. But he wanted to forget, suppress and never think of _it_ again. He wanted to put it aside almost as much as he wanted to go back a couple of minutes in time and continue the treatment he gave Fred.

His brother, his _twin_ brother.

What wasn't fair was that Fred once again proved to be the strong, loyal and honest one.

Fred didn't want them to crackle, willed the bond they had to stay in the determined shape of the love for a brother. Even though change could be good and the love for a twin was deeper than the love they held for the other brother's (or sister) in the household.

His sharp, miserable intake of breath bounced carefully about the room, as not to disturb him in his mourning.

His whole being seemed heavy and he slumped forward, caught himself with his palms pressed against the still-warm sheets.

Fred's warmth always comforted, soothed and his solace always brought a genuine smile to George's lips.

This time, however, the smile was strained, pained and crooked. A hint of misery curling up his cheek as he exhaled; only to breathe in sharply again.

He shook his head with the bloody not-so-much smile plastered over his face, he bet he was quite the sight.

_Forget it._

How he wanted to, how he wished everything could go back to normal and how he could go back to watch Fed with adoration and admiration.

But he did not know _how_ to make it normal.

They weren't really the definition of _normal_.

To define them had been proven difficult, almost impossible even, and he wasn't keen to know what anyone would say if he wanted them to define his former actions.

He suddenly chuckled, it rumbled out of his chest and upwards through his throat and left the humourless sound to echo above him.

The desire was still lingering within him, roamed his senses and was slowly replaced by a smothering agony that made the walls creep closer, slowly dislodging his sense from his body.

_It doesn't work._

Oh, no, it doesn't. Not when one of them refuses to talk, only seek action to then slip away in the middle of it.

Of course nothing works if it isn't discussed beforehand.

Sure, it didn't work. George could take that.

_It never will._

That, on the other hand, made him shudder involuntary and lie down; only to hiss in protest when his still present (and very hard) erection came to lay awkwardly against the mattress.

While on his side, George contemplated nothing, thought of nothing and, finally, felt nothing at absolutely all.

Except that tingling little taste buzzing in his mouth, still reminding him of their doings.

"As if any _doing_ was present."

What an innuendo.

Funny.

Really.

He tried to make the corners of his mouth twitch, but they were determinedly in their place.

Bloody hell.

_Forget it, will you? It doesn't work. It never will._

George closed his eyes, trying to _forget it_, but to no avail. It was stubbornly etched to him, engraved to his memory and he would still be able to remember it even if someone choose to _Obliviate_ him.

Life was a blast, really.

That strange smile crept into his mouth and he felt like he was bleeding, crying and sweating misery. The only thing he needed to do now was to wait for it to drown him.

It would come to that, eventually. He knew. No one could feel this much and not decease.

It just wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair he was the one observing the retreating back, the loud _thud_ the door made once it closed or the silence following.

The loneliness.

He didn't deserve it but he couldn't blame Fred either. He would've freaked out, too.

He suddenly bolted up, his eyes widening impossibly and his lips forming a breathless whimper, he tried to will the desire out of him, out of his body.

He tried to throw the mere thought of Fred away (which was hard for him to succeed with, every thought he had had since he was born probably included Fred) as he lowered his feet to the floor.

He flinched when his bare flesh connected with the cold, a flash of memory from a couple of days before very present. Fred did _something_ that day, and that something sure was wanking off, and Fred did mutter something under his breath before his movement stilled and George had the courage to retreat back into the room.

Instead of teasing his brother into oblivion, he just commented something cheesy and gay about dreams.

George shook his head again, closing his eyes.

_It's not time to think of the past. _

But what would he think of? The future was too complicated and the present was still coating him in agony, misery and sin.

His pulse was pounding in his ears and he felt the urge to scream at the top of his lungs.

But he didn't.

He was left dumbstruck with anguish flooding within his body, leaving him shivering with the wish to cut himself open to let it flood out.

_Accompanied by my blood._

He placed his chin in his hand and his elbow on his thigh, eyes watering and stinging relentlessly while his heart shattered into pieces so small he was sure he would never be able to repair it.

Or replace it.

_Forget it, will you?_

He was petrified, gaze locked with the wall across the room. He would never forget it. It wasn't possible, he wasn't able to. To forget it was to deny himself.

A part of himself.

Just as Fred was.

To forget it was to deny Fred, and George would never let that happen.

Maybe it wasn't strange, nor devastating, but heartbreaking.

Extremely, utterly and totally heartbreaking and George was helpless, speechless and reckless.

_I'll show him_, he thought as the shower on the floor above turned on and the sprinkles of water hit flesh and tiles, _I'll show him good._

George Weasley's tears spilled over and stained his cheeks, his knees trembled when he rose, gathered clean clothes and left their room.

It wasn't fair, and he was about to change it.

**~Fred~**

What had him caught by surprise wasn't the fact that the water was achingly cold and thrummed against him like the rain a couple of days before, it wasn't even the fact that the water seemed reluctant to even turn warm.

What had him caught by surprise wasn't the ache in his chest.

Or the stinging in his eyes.

Not even his ever present erection that had the nerve to bloody dammit stay present even when assaulted by the freezing water.

It wasn't the tears streaming down his cheeks and it definitely wasn't the fact that the water turned lukewarm and drew a relieved sigh from his throat.

Hell, he wasn't even surprised when he heard the door open and someone step inside. He just figured Ginny was up early and decided to brush her teeth. Before breakfast. Three o'clock in the morning.

In the bathroom two floors under hers.

It was extremely logical in his brain.

And that was what caught him by surprise.

That hissing denial, threatening to tear him up and consume his misery.

And what struck him dumb was that screaming in his brain that urged George's presence even closer and quieted down when rustling was heard from behind the shower curtain.

What had him caught by surprise the second time in as many minutes wasn't the fact that it definitely was George on the other side of the curtain.

Or that his twin brother just choose to push said curtain aside and join Fred.

It wasn't the fact that George actually preferred his company over the silence in their room.

Or that George was naked with an equal, ever present erection in his nether regions.

It wasn't even the pleading tone in George's word "please" or the fact that Fred reached out to cup his brother's cheek.

What had him caught by surprise the second time in as many minutes was the time he decided that placing a chaste kiss on his brother's lips was a spectacular idea.

It didn't stay chaste for long.

Once Fred decided that it might be time to pull away, to keep that chaste touch to it, his demands was muffled by desire and suddenly he had George pinned to the tiles, hissing and arching off the cold.

So much for chaste.

George's arms wound themselves around Fred's neck, drew him closer, caused their hips to slam together and caused wonderful friction that elicited equal moans from their throats.

Blimey.

Fred's hands traced small, strange patterns across his brother's chest, down towards his abdomen and stilled suddenly when they met hipbones.

He instantly craved more, yearned more friction, more responses and just, plain, more.

Urging George's lips apart with a swift sweep across his bottom lip, Fred felt his Gryffindor courage rise within and boldly direct his fingers to his brother's crotch.

The same moment he palmed the hot and heavy arousal of his brother and curled lean fingers around the length, his tongue met an identical one in a battle for dominance.

Suppressing a grin when he discovered his advantage – with George's cock in his bloody hand and all – he used his left hand to knit into the red strands of his brother's hair, changing the angle to give him full access.

Teasing strokes drew impossible sounds from George, sounds Fred never imagined would even pass those lips, let alone travel their way down his own throat and vibrate through every inch of him.

Fred broke the kiss, loosened his grip on his brother and took a stumbling step backwards.

Both of them panted, chests heaving; trying to regain control of their breathing.

George was quite the sight with his hair all tousled, wet and wispy, puffy, darkened eyes and slightly parted, red and swollen lips which panted hot, shallow puffs of air.

Water hit Fred relentlessly, trickled down his aching body and his eyes must have shone with invitation for his shower partner was suddenly close enough to make both of their breaths hitch.

Their hands roamed relentlessly, both panting incoherent, inaudible words, neither registering what the other was saying.

Not that they needed words, only acting upon feeling, sensations and emotion.

Fred once again palmed, and curled his fingers around, his brother's throbbing cock, savouring the feeling and sounds. His left hand knitted itself into red strands again and he massaged the scalp hidden beneath.

He was a man on a mission, he aimed to please his brother thoroughly.

Alas, he lost the phase of stroking when George moaned and palmed Fred's length, swirling his thumb over velvety flesh and coating it with pre-cum as he exposed the crown.

Both choked on their breaths, crushing lips together with desperate need, trying to express everything in one bruising kiss.

When they parted, still achingly aroused, tousled and panting, George's face was hosting several expressions Fred wasn't certain he had seen before.

"We–" his brother panted, then took a deep breath to start over. "We really, really need to talk."

Fred tensed, trying to back away, to put some space between them, but stilled his motion when a slender hand cupped his cheek.

"Please," he whispered. "Fred, please hear me out."

Fred tensed his jaw, his stomach churning and his mind reeling about the situation, he held his breath and waited, suddenly more aware of consequences, rejection and misery.

That hissing denial tried its damned best to break his resolve, to tear him down when he exhaled and then breathed in sharply, promptly holding it, awaiting the words with worry etched across his features.

The light, bliss-filled chuckle from George lit up his eyes and chased away some of the anguish residing within.

"Don't look like that," he murmured. "I'm not going to say anything horrible."

Fred relaxed noticeable, but stood still nonetheless.

He had a nagging thought in the back of his head, an urge to speak first and when his brother inhaled enough oxygen to tell whatever tale he needed, Fred's finger reacted on its own accord, preventing the younger twin's words from escaping.

"I want you," he murmured, locking eyes with George. "I want to be yours forever."

He smiled briefly and then let the screaming demands in his head to steer his body, once again pinning the other wizard against chilling tiles, bruising their lips with yet another kiss.

The sheer force of their hips grounding together sent him shuddering, moaning and bite down in George's innocent lips, swallowing the oncoming groan his brother made.

They were relentless in their urgent exploring of one another's bodies, tracing every patch of skin, every freckle was memorized, every possible consequence forgotten with every whispered promise of eternal love.

Every molecule in their bodies screamed, shouted and pleaded for release, even as they craved the teasing strokes, nibbling and caresses, willed the moment to last.

They fumbled at each other, the hot stream of water still plunging down their bodies, heating them even further.

The following euphoric bliss, lazy touches and sweet kisses completed them thoroughly, both spent, sticky and content.

Cleaning themselves up, smiling faintly, uncertain what to say.

Fred cleared his raw throat, voice hoarse and with a slight husky tone to it.

"I meant what I said," he watched his brother closely, trying to read the reaction.

George smiled, eyes glowing with mirth.

"Forever, brother, is the longest time," he chuckled then, closing his eyes for a brief moment and sighing. "Be careful, I might just accept that promise."

Fred returned the smile, succeeded to give his brother a chaste kiss, that didn't turn into something else entirely, pulled back and surveyed the depth in eyes so much alike his own.

"Eternity isn't long enough," he chuckled, pressing his lips to George's left clavicle, nipping at it softly, eliciting a quiet moan from his twin. "Infinity is just the mere beginning."

* * *

**Side note; Once again, thank you for reading! I love you all. (Kisses)**


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